


Scars

by LadyKenz347



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Complete, DFW, F/M, Nikita Gill Challenge, One Shot, You've been warned, it's pretty sad tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-29 02:25:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18216935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKenz347/pseuds/LadyKenz347
Summary: For DFW'S: Never Apologizing For Our Wild ChallengeInspired by Nikita Gills "Scars"





	Scars

**For the DFW: Never Apologizing For Our Wild Challenge.**

**Many of my talented writer friends have created fics of all shapes, sizes and feels after being blindly assigned one of Nikita’s poems for inspiration. Please read them all and shower them with love.**

 

**Loved and cared for by MHCalamas + PartyLines. Thank you for your eyes, mind and love.**

* * *

  
  


_ I suppose _

_ I love my scars _

_ Because _

_ They have _

_ Stayed with me _

_ Longer _

_ Than most people _

_ Have _

 

_ -Scars, Nikita Gill _

 

Hermione stared down at her weathered hands, she hardly recognized them anymore. With a scrutinizing glare she examined the knotted-knuckles and age spots staining her skin, trying to quell the slight tremor in her arms that had settled in almost ten years ago. 

 

With a roll of her wrist, she revealed the word scrawled into her arm. Jagged red lines etched forever in her skin, her constant companion. Pained breaths fought their way through her impossibly tight throat, and with glazed eyes her fingers traced over the scars.

 

That night had been the beginning of everything else.

 

“Grandma?” 

 

Hermione blinked and looked up at her sweet granddaughter. She was nearly grown enough to have children of her own now, and Hermione reached a tired, beckoning hand toward her as her chestnut curls tumbled over her softening shoulders.

 

Eloise sat—eyes darting to her grandmother’s arm—and offered a tender hand to cover the angry red word, but Hermione’s gently shaking head stilled her. 

 

“These scars, they mean something, dear. They aren’t something to hide.” Her voice shook as her words caught painfully in her throat. Hermione turned to stare at her granddaughter, her trembling hand moving up to cradle her cheek. “Promise me something. Promise me you won’t shy away from experiences that scar you. Not on your skin… not on your soul. Some scars are worth having.” Her hand left Eloise’s cheek to trace the letters again. “They can lead you to the greatest adventures... experiences you’ll never forget.”

 

“It’s okay to want to forget  _ that _ memory.” Eloise’s brow pinched together and her dark chocolate coloured eyes searched Hermione’s matching ones. 

 

The elder witch’s lips pursed in a knowing smile. “No. No, I wouldn’t trade that night for anything. That night was the one that changed every night for the rest of my life. It lead me to your granddad; it led to  _ you. _ This scar brought me the greatest love of my life; my greatest adventure of all.” 

 

Pressure built at her sinuses and her grief swelled at the corners of her eyes. “Gods, I’m going to miss him.” She clenched her eyes shut and felt the tears slide down her cheeks.

 

She’d said goodbye to almost everyone she’d loved in her life. She’d buried her parents far to young; Harry was gone too— _ Merlin, was it ten years already? _ Ron too—heart attack.

 

“These scars have stayed with me longer than most people have. But, I never expected to stay longer than him.  _ Him _ , with his stupid long walks every morning and skipping on the eggs for his cholesterol.” Hermione gave a hollow laugh and wiped the tears from her eyes.

“Mum?” Hermione coughed and brought her red-rimmed eyes to meet her son– the spitting image of Draco thirty years prior. “It’s time.” His voice was low, almost nervous as his eyes searched his mother's face for guidance.

 

Hermione nodded, her face pinching as she took his offered arm and rose to stand next to him. She moved much slower now—each step a laboured effort—and it took too long to reach the ballroom. 

 

“I don’t know how to live in a world where dad doesn’t,” Scorpius confessed, his voice thick with emotion he rarely showed to anyone. 

 

“Me neither,” she breathed, squeezing her hand on his arm. “He’s the love of my life—until the very end.” 

 

Scorpius sucked in a sobering breath through his nose, his lips flattening into a tight line. “Ready?” 

 

“As I’ll ever be,” Hermione’s voice croaked and when the doors swung open to nearly two hundred people who had come to celebrate her late husband's life, she didn’t see a single one of them. Her eyes were trained at the casket at the end of the room. 

 

On Draco.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
